Far From Home
by Equinox121
Summary: Albus Severus Potter gets sent back in time during the worst period possible: during his dad's sixth year at Hogwarts. Forced to disguise himself as the recently disappeared Harry Potter, can he survive long enough to find a way back home and limit the various alterations in history? In the meantime hilarity (and horror) ensues as Harry Potter finds himself in the future.
1. Chapter 1

One moment he had been enjoying himself on the Hogwarts Express. He was heading into his sixth year and his mates from his house had gotten a plus-sized cabin all for themselves, admittedly with a little bit of Albus exploiting his Prefect status and Hector bribing people with sweets, but they got there. Cornelius Flint, ever the resourceful drunk, had managed to sneak in Firewhisky. Lawrence Applebee had brought a tiny vial of versiraterum. Consequently, the incoming sixth-year Slytherin boys had elected to unleash complete and utter havoc in a game of drunken dares and confessions, which actually wasn't very prudent or characteristic of them but everyone had to be reckless some time in their life, right? Better now than later, Albus Severus Potter concluded.

"Sweet Merlin, Cornelius, how did you manage to steal another stash of your dad's Firewhisky supplies?" Arching his brow, Albus inquired his friend, who was, at present, smirking like a smug snake.

"Practice, Albus, makes perfect."

"And there's more - I got this!" A guy beamed as he held up a small vial.

"Versiraterum? Bloody hell Lawrence what have you got versiraterum for? Oh Merlin's pants, no way, you're not actually thinking of doing it? I was joking when I suggested it. It might not even work." Albus sensed what Lawrence was thinking ('drinking game,' 'deepest darkest secrets,' 'Who does Albus fancy now?') and he gulped in unease.

A devious smirk. "We'll see."

"Confessions! We're going to play confessions?" Scorpius piped up before Albus could voice his complaints, ever the expert at connecting the dots. Sometimes, Albus wondered why such a nice guy like Scorpius ended up being friends with him and the surrounding den of assholes. No offense intended of course, but the truth can sound caustically harsh. He had lost count of the number of admonishings the guy had collectively given them.

"Exactly. We mix each glass of firewhisky with just two drops of this," Lawrence declared as he held up the vial proudly, "and spill all our secrets, selectively of course. It all depends on what questions we can ask. And then - then we get to dare each other and force each other to do things because, if not, we'll spill the disobedient person's secrets!" He seemed so delighted, so proud, like he had just discovered the holy grail. Or a way to break Gramp's Sixth Law of Transfiguration or some random shit. Being friends with a nerd like Scorpius had really infected his brain with supercilious trivia. Supercilious, because Albus never really bothered to dig deeper and actually care.

"The mute starts!"

"I do talk, Corny."

"To merpeople. They don't count. And what kind of name is Corny?"

"Please don't try to discriminate based on species Cornelius, seeing as you are part mule, that would place you on the very end of the social ladder."

"Albus, be nice! Mules are awesome - they're very useful, they can carry-"

"Okay Scorpius, okay. You can stop trying to regurgitate some monthly agricultural journal about animals muggle farmers use."

"Mules don't-"

"Back to the point. Hector, why don't you down this glass instead?"

"Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!"

"All done!"

"Who do you want to fuck the most out of our year?"

"Melissa Bulstrode."

"No way!"

"Damn! I always knew there was something about the way you kept on looking at her!"

"I can see you two happening."

"Duke, you're next!"

"Have you ever tried on a Phallic Enhancement Potion?"

"Yes…"

"With Pandora Pippins?"

"One question. One question per round - that was the agreement. Next person!" Duke astutely avoided giving away anything else. Except Albus could hear his anxieties. ('What would Pandora say about this?') It was silly, really. They had been all over each other ever since second-year.

"Jon, why don't you go? Kill, fuck and marry. Professor Ainsworth, Susan Goyle and your grandmother."

"Lawrence, that's sick in the head!"

"It's your turn and it's not over until you answer it."

"Damn… uh… Fuck Professor Ainsworth, I mean that ass is nice plus she's hot - oh come on, stop giving me that look! Plus, she's smart as hell and can probably whisper nice things while in bed. She is positively fuckable! Stop it, guys! Kill Susan, sorry Susan, I can't kill grandma. And yes, you perversely minded human beings, I'll marry my grandmother. Now it's your turn to suffer Albus: would you snog Anya or Scorpius?"

"Scorpius." The words came flooding out involuntarily. "I mean, come on, Anya dumped me for her OWL exams last year so I'm giving her the silent treatment now. Fucking Ravenclaws. Seriously, I do not want to think of ever again. Hear me? Plus, Scorpius is my best mate and he won't mind."

"Oh shit! The secret's out! I always knew Potter had a thing for Malfoy! Potter and Malfoy sitting in the tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-"

"No! No! No! Scorpius - Scorpius, I promise this isn't something weird, okay? You're my best friend and you mean so, so much to me and I'll do whatever makes you feel comfortable - damn that's not what I - okay maybe. Besides, you're still all starry-eyed over Rose, aren't you? You-"

The door slid open. James came swaggering in. It was his last year and he had just been appointed as Head Boy, beating Justin MacLaggen, who was a git. Between his brother and Justin, Albus would happily opt for the lesser of two evils. Still, it didn't make his brother coming in and embarrassing him any less vexing.

"Sod off James! Get off me!"

"My baby brother's drinking alcohol? My baby brother's drinking alcohol without informing me? I'm disappointed!" A dramatic sigh. "Ten million points from Slytherin, that will be."

"Piss off, go hang out with your friends or screw whatever girl you're currently dating - can't remember her name - or something."

(On the other hand, James, in spite of his insufferable antics, had saved the day because he was no longer pestered by Jon.)

"May I join?"

"No!"

And then a whole barrage of brash, loud, annoying (no double standards here, whatsoever) Gryffindors, most of whom happened to be Albus's cousins, came crashing in.

"Yeah!"

"Let's do this shit!"

"JAMES WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!"

"You know you love me Albus."

"Actually, Albus loves Scorpius. We just confirmed that."

"Oh really? -"

"Jon, go kill yourself. You wanted to marry your grandma."

"Context matters."

"It's okay baby brother." A pat on the head. "Our family's tolerated you being a sneaky little snake. We'll tolerate you being gay with Malfoy- shit! Why is Annie Bones here? Oh, sweet Merlin, I'm doomed!" He threw his arms into the air and despaired.

More entrants. Hufflepuffs who evidently came for the alcohol. (Who was giving away all this information?) James bolted out before his ex-girlfriend could properly interact with him all while their cabin was inundated with new arrivals.

Having downed five glasses, everything was already descending into a blur and throughout the rest of the journey, Albus Potter vaguely remembered snippets of snogging (and blond hair), getting his photo taken, ripping off his clothes and dancing on the table half-naked with his tie strapped to his head like a complete idiot, downing four more drinks. What a way to start a year.

He needed air, most definitely, for the inside of the cabin was now suffocating with sweat. He also needed some respite from people in general. They were getting a bit too much. It didn't matter that he was half-naked, he needed to get out. Plus he needed to mentally recollect himself before the Prefects convened and started their year of duties and he couldn't do it while still inebriated.

Then, all else was history; his world went dark

* * *

"Wotcher Harry."

He felt his body awaken. Slowly, Albus got up and raised his head to the sight of a face that he did not know but that wasn't completely unfamiliar either. He had seen it somewhere, somehow. She was holding his Invisibility Cloak that she just pulled away.

Wait - that made no sense. He hadn't been under his Invisibility Cloak, had he? His housemates were fucking snakes. Literally, metaphorically, metaphysically, spiritually, whatever way possible. They must have thought it funny. Granted, that seemed a bit far even for the likes of Lawrence, who was a horrible bully up until the end of second-year, when he realized that Albus was perhaps the only person who could prevent him from obtaining yet another dismal Potions grade. (From there, a friendship had blossomed.)

Also, why the heck did someone refer to him as 'Harry'? A couple of old senile people had done that a few years ago - and a few ghosts too. Still, it wasn't all that common.

The blue-haired lady, whoever she was, frowned a little at the sight of his attire. He did not look very put together, with a half unbuttoned shirt and some Gryffindor's tie (probably James', though he had a faint idea as to how it got there, not that he particularly cared) fastened on his head. A classic look of a lunatic out of an asylum. Coming closer, she scrutinized his face and frowned. His hair was plastered around his forehead, his hair gel's use worn off by profuse sweating.

Still befuddled by the lady's address, Albus was about foment a response when a wave of nausea swept through his entire body. He vomited on the floor, wretching. He was both embarrassed and disgusted. Wiping away the vile bile of his stomach from the corner of his mouth, he groggily stood up and apologized. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"We'd better get out of here; quickly," she said, evidently holding her nose. The windows of the Hogwarts Express were now obscured by steam. Crap. "Come on, we'll jump."

Deciding that this woman probably meant no harm, Albus followed behind her, albeit with his had tightly clutched around the wand in his pocket. A degree of wariness to random strangers who led you to places would be the most prudent choice, though for some reason, this line of reasoning seemed ridiculous once Albus mentally recited it in his head. She pulled the door open and leaped onto the platform and he followed suit, staggering a little as he landed. Just as he straightened himself, the steam engine had picked up speed and he was left gazing at the back of the train.

The air was cool and it freshened him to an extent. Yet there was a nagging feeling that something was very, very wrong. Call it intuition.

"Ma'am, if I may ask a question-"

"Ma'am? Harry, what kind of address is ma'am? It's Tonks for you!"

Again. She had called him by his dad's name again.

Tonks. That sounded familiar. Teddy! That's right! Tonks was the name of Teddy's mother.

But Teddy's mother was dead and combined with the fact that she had repeatedly mistaken him for his dad, this could not mean well. In fact, if Albus permitted his imagination to go wild, it could only mean that he was probably dead from alcohol overdose and she was greeting him in afterlife. In light of the fact that he really resembled his father - sans the glasses and the lightning scar, which was obscured from her view anyway - she must have mistaken him from the illustrious Harry Potter.

Whelp.

Well, at least his namesake once called death the start to another great adventure. Maybe he'll have fun around this place. Still, it was a little shitty to die from alcohol poisoning. Not to mention, it would be embarrassing for him to explain it to everyone else. Oh hi Sirius Black, I'm your godson's son and I had a bit too much alcohol on the Hogwarts Express and here I am.

"Tonks," Albus asked, "Well, what next?"

She frowned. "Harry-"

"I'm - I'm not -" Albus interjected, before fumbling. He wasn't sure whether to reveal the fact that he really wasn't Harry Potter. He hoped he didn't come across as rude.

Tonks snorted, mildly amused, but in an amicable manner. She was more impressed than peeved.

"Okay I know I'm not 100% sober right now but can you please at least try to believe what I'm saying?"

A flash of understanding passed Tonk's face and she started laughing. "Oh Harry, getting drunk at the start of your Sixth Year! Nice try. Not bad, not bad at all-"

Alternative scenario: he had gone back in time and somehow substituted the place of his own father. Tonks was still alive back then, hence her appearance. She refused to believe him because, in all honesty, he looked drunk/ hungover and idiotic at the moment. Extrapolating this, it would mean everyone else treating and viewing him as Harry Potter. Everyone.

To tell her or to not tell her? Heck, it doesn't matter. She won't believe him anyway. Not many people probably would.

Well, what next?

"I'm not feeling very well," Albus simply said, "Tonks. I need to puke."

And he did.

* * *

"So, how do I get in?"

The gates were bewitched so spells won't work. Anti-intruder jinxes are guaranteed to make entry difficult. Word said that Douglas Boot - Albus had no idea what that boy was in Ravenclaw, the supposed Home of the Wise - had tried to climb through the wall and ended up spending a week at the hospital so that ruled another option out. And Albus did not fancy camping out for the night. (Who would?) On the other hand, he was not sure if he had the cash for a night's stay at Hogsmeade.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Someone's coming down for you," Tonks said, "Look."

"Fuck," Albus said aloud. Unintentionally.

He had nothing against Severus Snape, who was carrying a glowing yellow lantern and walking towards them. His dad had spoken about the man with praise and, in spite of uncle Ron's comments about how Snape treated them when they were at school, which did not sound all that pleasant, Albus could still appreciate what the man did for his father. He was named after Severus Snape, after all, Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore.

"Well, well, well," the man sneered, taking out his wand and tapping the padlock so that the chains snaked backward and the gates opened. "Nice of your to turn up Potter - and express such unbelievable profanity - in such egregious attire, well into the welcoming feast."

"Have a good day too, Sir. I'm afraid I got drunk, though I had no precise memory of my inebriation process." Albus shrugged his shoulders and tried to look as nonchalant as possible. Everything still felt milzly hazy around him. He decided to go along with the whole being inebriated and doing stupid shit scenario. Tonks was sniggering every so slightly.

Was the man trembling with rage? Oh yes, he most certainly was.

"I'm sorry sir," Albus apologized, "I was being totally inappropriate. I know, there's no excuse. Don't ask me where the alcohol came from because I didn't produce it." He held up his hands and avoided Snape's eyes because he had a feeling that the man was probably a Legilimens (like him.) "It was dumb, I know, and I would like to apologize to whoever I managed to traumatize except I could not quite remember their names-"

"That's enough, Potter," Snape interjected and Albus could taste the loathing in the air. Did Snape really hate this father this much? "There's no need to wait Nymphadora, Potter is quite - ah - safe in my hands."

Would he be? In spite of all he's heard from his father, Albus felt a little skeptical. Just a little.

He really was back in time, wasn't he?

He was in an inexplicably complicated and atrocious position right now. If his conjectures were correct, then he really was back in the past, presumably when his father was still a student and Hogwarts and around the sixth year because neither Tonks or Snape voiced surprise at his age. Also, everyone seemed to think he was his father so far. The fact that he now covered part of his forehead with hair helped because that was where his father's famed lightning bolt scar was. Yet, with horror, Albus realized that being perceived as Harry Potter at the time of Harry Potter's sixth year would mean a trail of fanatical Death Eaters and one crazy Dark Lord hellbent on murdering him. Life was good. Truly, he had been blessed by fate's anus.

"The new one looks weak," Snape uttered the words with malice and Albus saw the shock and anger on Tonks' face. Presumably, they were talking about her Patronus, though he couldn't be sure as he was only faintly paying attention to their conversation. Still, what a dick move.

"Good night Tonks, for the record, I think your Patronus looks awesome," Albus called over his shoulder and waved good-naturedly. "Thanks for bearing with me!"

"See you, Harry."

Snape was not speaking, but he was glaring at Albus with such unmistakable disapproval and judgment that it made Albus feel a little uncomfortable.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for your lateness," said Snape with the smallest trace of satisfaction.

"Oh man-"

"Do not interrupt me while I'm talking Potter, five points for that," Snape snapped. "And a hundred points for your… heinous choice of dressing and inebriation."

Now that's just fantastic. Even though Albus was not in Gryffindor and, as a result, the emotional connection of losing house points was not immediately registering, he knew this was still a bad thing. Starting off the year by pulling your house points in the negative direction was one way to make friends.

"Alright sir," Albus said as he smiled politely, "I understand. I won't do this again."

Snape looked so exasperated that he might as well explode, for it appears that he expected Albus to deliberately clash with him and give him further excuse to torment Albus, which was admittedly an amusing sight to watch. Still, that man, regardless of his later-revealed heroics, seemed like a rather insufferable character. For once, Albus was glad that Horace Slughorn in all his pompousness was his head of house instead of the man walking beside him. No offense intended, of course.

They reached the castle steps at last and before the great oaken front doors swung open, Albus took off his tie from his head and hurriedly did it around his neck. The great entrance hall was packed with people, suffused with bouts of laughter and the heavenly smell of food.

"Do I rush to my table or what?" Albus whispered.

"Just walk in so everyone sees you, which is surely what you wanted - no Invisibility Cloak-"

Albus had dashed off before Snape could finish his sentence, which must have irked the man, though he never looked back to confirm his suspicions. He sped through the place, ignoring any stares and glances at his half-unbuttoned shirt and lack of robes, and made his way towards the Gryffindor table, which was a weird experience considering how he barely dined there at all and had to ignore his mental reflexes that were telling him otherwise. He eventually reached mini versions of his aunt Hermione and uncle Ron and forced his way between them. They were definitely trustworthy people and maybe tell them about who he really was and the deep shit he had gotten himself in. (Moreover, the sight of them doubly confirmed the fact that he was indeed sent back in time.)

"Blimey Harry! Where were you?" Rom exclaimed as people around them kept staring, which was mildly annoying. Can't people mind their own businesses? Albus could already hear thoughts floating in the air, speculating on the cause of his lateness. The curse of Legilimency.

"I got myself drunk," Albus said with a sigh. "And then I passed out and here I am."

"Seriously Harry! We've been terrified!" Hermione said with disapproval. "Also, how did you manage to get alcohol on the Hogwarts Express? It's forbidden, as Prefect I can - but I won't - punish you!"

"I'll tell you guys what happened later, okay? It's a lot to explain," Albus whispered, well aware that others were listening in. He decided to trust them and tell them just exactly what happened. Aunt Hermione was smart and she would have a clue on what to do. Plus they were his dad's closest friends and there was no way they can avoid detecting that something was off about him for long.

"But-"

"Not now," Albus interjected Hermione.

* * *

Albus glanced around the table. There were a few familiar faces from his time, Minerva McGonagall being one of them. She was a pretty stern headmistress, according to James, who had landed himself in detention time and time again. There was Albus Dumbledore, his other namesake, that he recognized from a portrait. There was Hagrid, a close family friend who was also an aficionado of outrageously dangerous creatures, not that Albus minded. Professor Trelway sat by Hagrid and looked as odd as ever. Albus had taken one of her classes before deciding that he had had enough of divination. Each to their own.

Surveying around the room, Albus' eyes landed on the Slytherin table, where, at another period of time when the people there were less... evil, he would have been sitting. What looked like Draco Malfoy (Scorpius really resembled his dad) was guffawing as he mimed over someone's shattered nose. It was weird. The people there looked positively unfriendly and Albus was sure that his bunch were much, much nicer. And he would also bet that they threw much better parties. And that they were also not ax-crazy pureblood supremacists. And that they (mostly) used the Forbidden Section of the library for make out sessions rather than other shiftier activities or at least that the books they checked out bore titles more similar to Forbidden Fornicating Fantasies than Magick Most Evile (seriously though, why would anyone admit that the magic they practiced was evil or that they were evil or whatever? It made no sense and the person who wrote the book was either really dumb or really dumb.) And that they were nicer. And that they were better at Quidditch. Albus was never good at Quidditch, being an absolute joke on the broom, but many of his house mates were excellent players and it always felt great to cheer them on and witness James' displeasure as they beat Gryffindor. James... Albus wondered how his insufferable idiot of a brother was doing as Head Boy, probably weeping on the inside at the newfound position of responsibility. Sure, there were perks but they also came with commitments and, under a new rule, he had to give up the position of Quidditch captain, which he would loathe.

Staring down at his treacle tart, Albus felt his stomach growl. He grabbed it and munched on it with the manner of a street urchin.

"What does Professor Slughorn want to know?" Hermione asked.

"Errr… sorry, wasn't paying attention…" Albus mumbled. "What about Sluggy?"

Shit. Another slip of the tongue.

"Sluggy? What kind of name was that?" Hermione frowned.

"Yeah, so you wanted to know what he wanted to know? I mean…"

"Could it be about what happened at the Ministry?" Hermione speculated.

"Yes, yes, it has to be," Albus said with a nod, glad that he finally knew what the hell was going on. His mind really needed to spin faster if he was to pull off the trick.

"People were interrogating us on the train about it, weren't they, Ron?"

"Yeah," said Ron, "All wanting to know if you really are the 'Chosen '-"

They were interrupted by Nearly Headless Nick, whose barely attached head looked like it was about to fall off as he inclined towards Albus, which kind of made Albus want to back away. "There has been talk of that subject even amongst ghosts. "I am considered something of a Potter authority; it is widely known that we are friendly. I have assured the spirit community that I will not pester you for information, however. 'Harry Potter knows that he can confide in me with complete confidence,' I told them. 'I would rather die than betray his trust.' "

"That's not saying much, seeing as you're already dead," Ron observed. Albus couldn't help but chuckle. It seems that uncle Ron had always been this funny. He always liked uncle Ron a lot when he was a kid - the man was where he acquired some of his earliest expressions of profanity. Apparently, according to his dad, "ass" had been his first word, spoken after a babysitting session by Ron.

"Once again, you show all the sensitivity of a blunt ax," said Nearly Headless Nick, looking very much affronted. He rose into the air and glided back toward the far end of the Gryffindor table just as Dumbledore was about to speak.

"Now... to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another full year of magical education awaits you..."

"There's something really dodgy about his hand," Albus whispered to Hermione, who had also noticed Dumbledore's blackened and dead-looking hand. "Reckon it's some sort of dark curse? It looks bad."

Hermione nodded. "It looks as if it has just died."

Dumbledore continued speaking, waving off concerns about the state of his hand, which made Albus frown. Either it really was nothing or it was potentially life-threatening and Dumbledore didn't want to alarm anyone in the room - probably the latter. As the headmaster mentioned something about Filch requesting a ban of products Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Albus snickered. ("Your brothers are already becoming a force to be reckoned with," he chuckled at Ron.)

"...Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should contact their Head of Houses and Quidditch captains..."

"Shit," Albus blurted out again, drawing looks from people around him, especially Ron and Hermione. He had momentarily forgotten the fact that not only was his father a prodigious seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, but that Harry Potter was also Quidditch captain. This made his stomach drop with dread again. He was useless in Quidditch, being barely able to survive on a broom. During his first flying lesson, he turned out to be the last person taking off and the sense of humiliation he experienced made him stay away from the sport. The Potter family's Quidditch genes had somehow escaped him. Yet, here, he had to pretend that he knew what he was doing. "It's nothing," Albus added, "Nothing at all."

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of the staff this year. Professor Slughorn" - Old Sluggy, a few years younger than when he taught Albus, stood up, his bald and shiny head gleaming, his massive belly jiggling - "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old position of Potions master."

"Potions?"

There were gasps all around the room and Albus could almost wager that he was the only one who didn't seem surprised at it. Right, he remembered that Snape had been Potions master for the majority of his father's time at school. That made sense.

"Potions?" Ron and Hermione gaped at him concurrently. "But you said he would be taking over as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!"

Albus backed away from the two a little. "I don't know, I was just guessing." He had no idea about what his father might have said before. Ron and Hermione frowned at him again, as if noting that something was amiss.

When Snape had been announced as the new DADA teacher, there was also surprised voices reverberating through the entire hall. Albus merely shrugged. Perhaps he had been lacking in context - though uncle Ron loved to recount his days in Hogwarts, he must have missed details here and there - but Albus really could not comprehend what the fuss was about.

When Dumbledore started warning about Voldemort and the Death Eaters being at large again, Albus shot a look at Draco Malfoy, who was trying to make his fork hover in midair, as if deliberately not paying attention to the contents of the headmaster's speech. He remembered that Scorpius' dad had been a Death Eater when he was very young. He wondered if Draco had already taken the Dark Mark. That might explain some things.

* * *

As Hermione embarked on her prefect duties of shepherding first years, Ron stayed with Albus. Once they were out of earshot, the questions came. "What happened, Harry? What's the matter with you?"

"Listen, Ron..." Albus pulled Ron to the side, somewhere he was 100% sure no one could hear them. He lifted up his hair. "I'm not Harry Potter."

"What in Merlin's balls are you talking about?!"

"My name is - well - this is going to sound absolutely bonkers but you have to believe me. I'm ... from the future. I'm Harry Potter's second son, Albus Potter. And - oh don't give that expression, I'm being 100% serious - one moment I was drunk and partying on the train and another I woke up, at a different time, apparently mistaken for my father when he was younger, who also disappeared. I'm confused as hell, Ron - I just - I know you and my dad and Hermione were best friends back when you guys were still in Hogwarts - heck that's kind of now - it sounds weird - you know what, I'll answer any questions once aunt Hermione - no - Hermione, whoops - I'll answer questions once Hermione's also here. Oh look, Hagrid's coming. Let's pretend everything's alright and I'm Harry Potter. We can't let too many people know about this." Albus finished his garbled rambling just as Hagrid came to greet them. Ron's expressions were a muddled mess of confusion; he looked as if he were about to explode out of befuddlement or shake Albus into his senses. Albus couldn't blame him. Still, Ron managed to hold his tongue for the moment.

"How come yeh were late, Harry? I was worried."

"It's a long story." Albus gulped, feigning (well, not really feigning, given that he actually felt bad) an expression of guilt. "A long story involving alcohol..."

* * *

"So, you're really not Harry Potter?!" Hermione gazed at him with incredulity as he revealed his scarless forehead and cleared up a few things to her once they were in the Gryffindor common room. After a long and thorough description of his humiliations of the day, which involved heavy drinking, getting drunk, blacking out, acting like an idiot, travelling through time for some reason and bumping into Tonks, Albus finally explained that he planned on disguising himself as his father whilst searching for a way to go back to his own time, all while taking in the utter shock and horror in Ron and Hermione's faces.

It was definitely strange being in there so late at night. The only times when Albus visited here was when he crashed their Christmas Party last year and when, after the wailing and screeching of the Fat Lady, he finally managed to sneak past the place to see his family on one night.

"Yes," Albus answered. "That is correct."

"Merlin's pants..." Ron muttered.

"Well, then where is Harry?" Hermione frowned, perturbed. "You were saying that you simply woke up in... 1996, possibly right when Harry disappeared. This could not mean well."

"Maybe we switched places?" Albus shrugged as he suggested. "Hypothetically, if we did, then I personally wouldn't worry too much about him. My time is pretty safe. He won't have to deal with, well, murderous Death Eaters and ax-crazy Dark Lords."

Still worried, Hermione was barely reassured by his words. Ron still looked like he was about to explode. Albus didn't blame them; he would have felt the same if any of his friends or siblings suddenly disappeared into the blue and were replaced by someone claiming to be their child.

"So... What you want to do is pretend that you are Harry Potter?" Hermione said, trying to recollect herself

"Correct," Albus said hesitantly. "I mean, there's a good reason. it's better than most people knowing that I'm Harry's son, which can cause a lot of confusion, not to mention it might alter the future irrevocably, which I want to avoid..."

"That's true, bad things happen to those who meddle with time..."

"Or those who fall through time." Albus finished Hermione's sentence. "Plus, everyone might panic if they found out the Chosen One had gone missing. Except, I really, really need help from you guys."

"One thing though," Ron said as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously - Albus caught sight of him exchanging glances with Hermione - and furrowed his brows, "How do we know we can trust you? How do we know you really are who you say you are?"

"You don't trust me?" That was all he could muster in response. It made sense because technically, they had no reason to trust him. For all they knew - when viewing things from their perspective - he could be some Death Eater spy sent to Hogwarts.

"Ron has a point," Hermione added. "Give us a reason to not turn you in to Professor Dumbledore."

"I mean, you guys can totally alert Dumbledore if that's what you want," Albus said, "He might be able to help. I have no problem with that at all."

They didn't appear convinced.

How on earth was he going to get them to trust him?

"Your mother was a dentist," Albus finally spoke up, addressing Hermione, "She made the best gingerbread cookies in the entire world and this one summer, when I was over there with Rose, she taught us how to make it. She said that when you were two you tried to climb your dad's bookshelf and fell by accident, receiving a couple of stitches here and there-"

"Knowing about my family or my past is no solid proof, for all I know you-"

"Fine, then look into mine," Albus offered firmly. "You know how to do it. Just use your wand, point to me and say _Legilimens_. I'll show you."

* * *

 _It was a particularly thunderous night and Dad still wasn't home. The clock had struck midnight a while ago and six year old Albus Potter was terrified. His mother had tucked him into sleep hours ago yet sleep continued to evade him so. He tossed and turned and thought about scary things like dementors, giant spider and… and Dad not making it back home. After sometime of chasing sleep with futility, Albus decided to jump off his bed, sneak into the kitchen and scour the place for food. James claimed that Dad had a secret stash of sweets there. But then again, James was James._

 _Sneaking into places, pranking people, flouting rules and proudly bragging about it all, those were James's specialities. Albus was different, much more cautious, much less willing to get caught and much more quiet about it all. James always got caught, Albus almost never._

 _Stretching his pudgy fingers, he strained to reach the topmost cupboard. He internally screamed in frustration. He'd have to drag a chair - which was still fairly heavy for him - beneath and that might be too loud and that might wake everyone else up and his streak of not getting caught would be over. Crestfallen, he made his way towards the sofas and curled up there._

 _His thoughts soon grew darker, wandered away from candy._

 _Where was Dad?_

 _Indeed, where was Dad?_

 _He knew Dad had been away for an Auror mission - but to where?_

 _Then some terrible thought struck him: What if Dad hadn't made it? What would they all do now?_

 _Dad was an Auror, Mum would tell him. He risked his life to protect all of them from dark creatures and dark wizards and witches. What would they do when dad was gone?_

 _Albus hated times like these, nights like these, nights when dad was away. He had never told this to anyone, but at times, he secretly wished that Dad wasn't the Hero of the Wizarding World or the Head Auror who risked his life all the time for everyone and just plain old Dad who loved his family, who weeded products from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes out of James, who surreptitiously gave his children candy and chocolate (without Mum's notice), and who took all of them out for Quidditch matches._

 _The door swung open. Dad slid in. He didn't switch on the lights for fear of waking up the family. Before Dad could take off his coat, Albus found his feet propelling him forwards. He slammed into Dad in a hug. "Dad! You're alive!"_

 _"Albus!" Harry looked surprised. "What are you doing this late at night? Shouldn't you be in bed?"_

 _"Can't sleep," Albus muttered guiltily. "I was scared - and I wanted candy." His worried look instantly switched into a cheeky grin._

 _Harry sighed. Ginny's ban on sweets had been rather counterintuitive, seeing as all of his children - James, Lily and Albus - have tried to get their hands on his secret stash. Their determination to eat candy had risen, not waned. He'd have to try and talk Ginny out of it. Still, sweets at two in the morning?_

 _Immune to Albus's puppy eyes, Harry nevertheless picked his son up and carried Albus to bed._

 _"Daddy…" Albus spoke again, worried and tired and sleepy. "Why were you so late today?" His voice grew more frantic, more distraught. "I was so scared."_

 _Harry pulled his son tightly into an embrace. "There, I'm still alive, am I?"_

 _"What if you don't make it next time?" The boy was quiet, hoarse. His eyes widened. Green met green. Terrified. Lightning struck outside._

 _"Daddy will be fine," Harry murmured as Albus, rather disobediently, climbed into his lap._

 _"I don't want you to be an Auror," Albus said, pouting and frowning. "I just want you to be Dad. Why should you risk your life for everyone?"_

 _"Albus," Harry chided slightly - he was stern but also gentle and encouraging. "Do you know what Aurors do?"_

 _"Mummy says Aurors fight bad people and keep us all safe," Albus recited from memory._

 _"Exactly, Albus. And what will the world do without Aurors?"_

 _Albus shook his head. He hadn't thought about that. He was lost for words. "But why does it have to be you? Why not - anyone else?"_

 _"Since I was a kid, I've only been good at two things: Quidditch and fighting evil -"_

 _"So you could have been a Quidditch player like Mummy!" Albus declared triumphantly and then his expressions turned apologetic for interrupting his Dad. "Sorry…" he muttered._

 _"Albus," Harry said, in a tone that made Albus feel safe. He hugged his dad again. "Because I love all of you, your mother, you, James, Lily… Being an Auror helps keep all of my loved ones safe. There are some things that are worth risking your life for."_

 _"Then I want to be an Auror too," Albus blurted out without thinking much. He was getting very drowsy._

 _"Good boy," Harry said as he tucked his son into bed._

 _"No candy?" There came a mildly disappointed question._

 _"Next time." Harry smiled._

* * *

"There, you have it," Albus heaved a sigh of relief as Hermione withdrew from his memory, "If that doesn't convince then I'm afraid there is nothing I can do."

It was one of the touchier recollections. Every time his mind dwelled on it, Albus would be reminded of just how dedicated his father was to his job and just how much the events of the past shaped him.

Ron and Hermione - perhaps seeing traces of the Harry they knew - were at least less skeptical than they were before.

"We'll help," Hermione finally gave him a response, which was accompanied by Ron's nodding.

"Wonderful! First things first, I need to get a scar on my forehead and fake glasses," Albus explained.

Hermione, with her mental encyclopedia of spells, waved her wand and then suddenly there was a lightning scar on his forehead.

"This is awesome..." Albus gasped as he felt it. "You're awesome." He beamed at her.

"Thanks. It's like a temporary tattoo," Hermione explained. "It wears off periodically and revealing charms can make it disappear.

"Okay, and I can simply tell everyone that I decided glasses were lame and I decided to get contact lenses. Cool," Albus said, to the slight amusement and snorting of his two companions. "Back me up."

"Secondly, I need school robes, which I believe I took off while intoxicated," Albus said while gesturing to his half unbuttoned shirt. "This is all I have. I got my tie covered, which is good."

"Mmmmmm..." Ron looked a bit uncomfortable. Hermione elbowed him hard as if urging him about something. "You can borrow some of mine. They're hand-down robes so I can't guarantee they'd be much good.

"That's completely fine. Thank you so much. I mean, I won't be here forever. I need to find a way to get back to my own time, where I belong. And hopefully, it would be connected to bringing dad - Harry - back here, where he belongs," Albus explained. "But, in the meantime, we've got to keep up this ruse."

"He's right, Ron," Hermione concurred. "And we've got to help him, all while trying to find a way of sending him home and bringing our Harry back."

"I know, I know..."

"I'll do some reading about time-traveling, Albus - your dad named you after Dumbledore didn't he?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah." Albus responded. "Oh and also, I suck at Quidditch."

"What?!" Ron looked shocked for the millionth time tonight.

"I was wondering, is it possible for me to quit the team or would it cause too much of an uproar? Can I pretend that I have some sort of unspoken health issue? Can team captains not play in their matches because, if so, can I simply recruit another seeker.? Also, the Gryffindor Quidditch Team needs a new keeper, right?"

The string of questions, Albus could tell, was making Ron sink into despair.

Yep, they were off to a great start.

* * *

"Hold it!" Hermione halted a fourth year next day morning and began remonstrating, "Fanged Frisbees are banned, hand it over." The boy swore under his breath and Albus could hear the stream of profanities going through his head.

It all started during the aftermath of the Halloween feast in his second year when all the second year Slytherin boys decided to play Wizard Poker and substituted sweets for money. By the end of the night, shortly before dawn broke, Albus had acquired a mountain's worth of candy piled on his bed, much to the envy of his housemates. (He then opted to share them out again, as if nothing had happened, for there was no need in making unnecessary enemies.) It was also a strange experience, the entirety of that night. All his life, Albus had thought his ability to simply know what many people were thinking was intuition, impeccable guess-work, but that night, a more distinct definition emerged. However, that night, when he realized he coupled perceive the exact, precise cards of his opponents and then their emotions, strategic plans too, Albus' suspicions were confirmed. Scorpius had helped him reach the conclusion.

Being a Legilimens came with pros and cons. On the bright side, it meant that cheating during tests became infinitely easier and that, as a Prefect, he could detect lies from seemingly innocent First-Years. However, at the same time, it meant detecting lies that Albus wished were truths. As the son of the illustrated, famed Harry Potter, there were far too many flatterers and sycophants who approached Albus with a false smile. He had heard all the nasty things, the suspicions, the ulterior motives, beneath their sweet words. It most definitely contributed to his burgeoning cynicism, albeit cheerful cynicism - and no, in spite of Scorpius' denial, it's not oxymoronic.

"Excellent, I've always wanted one of these," Ron exclaimed gleefully once the fourth-year had left and tugged the frisbee from Hermione.

Hermione's scolding was drowned out by Lavender Brown's giggles. She glanced at Ron in a very flirty manner and he looked rather pleased with himself.

"She's into you," Albus quipped. It was true. He heard it in her head.

"Really?" Ron looked pleasantly surprised.

"Yup. And she wants to make a move soon," Albus speculated. "At least, she thinks she wants to make a move. Oh, I forgot to tell you guys, I'm a Legilimens."

"What?!" They both gawked. It was not the first time in the day that Albus said something that made them do so.

Albus gave them a nonchalant smile and shrug, trying to look as amicable as possible, trying to forget the gargantuan pile of feces he had found himself in, trying to treat this like any other day in his life.

Yeah, like that would be easy.

* * *

 **Author's Note: This came into my mind randomly one day. I've got a few chapters planned so hopefully, I'll get the motivation to write it all out, which a few reviews would greatly help!**

 **And to say this in advance, yes, Harry Potter will be transported into the future, though it will not be till a few chapters later. (His side is less drama ridden.) And his shock will be something to behold too.**

 **Feel free to pitch in suggestions and voice your thoughts in the reviews!**


	2. Chapter 2

They were gathered around the Gryffindor common room, just him, Ron and Hermione, discussing vital matters pertaining to his disguises. This brought back faint memories of him sneaking into here to talk to Rose after she had gotten upset at him for putting boils on her friend Polly Chapman's face.

Well, that was the original intention, but it was quickly derailed to them updating him about what the heck is going on in this world all while Albus wished he had maybe paid a little more attention during History of Magic or at least found more effort to ask his dad about his school days.

Still, they managed to loosely compile a list of rules as to what Albus is and is not allowed to do, which could only really help.

* * *

"Rule number one, Snape hates your dad."

"I can tell," Albus whispered as Snape entered the room. It was a little gloomy for his taste. The curtains were drawn, the dark place was lit by candlelight and the walls around them were adorned with gruesome pictures of people in pain, faces contorting, grisly injuries and distorted, dismembered body parts. "Wow this is some heavy shit."

"You love understatements don't you?" Ron snorted.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," Snape commanded as he faced the class from behind his desk. "I wish to speak to you and I want your fullest attention.

"His hair is really greasy," Albus whispered, "He needs dandruff cleaning shampoo."

"Really," Ron snickered, "You have the talent with saying the most irrelevant things at the most inappropriate times."

"So I've been told," Albus said smugly before resuming a semblance of concentration, listening to Snape attentively so as to not give the man an excuse to chastise him.

Snape proceeded to deliver a lecture on the flexible, ever-evolving challenges of dealing with the Dark Arts, likening them to a multi-headed hydra and elaborating extensively on the various gruesome pictures displayed. This was someone with significant knowledge and experience about the Dark Arts. As syllable after syllable rolled out of Severus Snape's tongue, consistently stressing the dangers and strengths of it all, Albus thought the man was almost describing an old friend - perhaps an old friend turned enemy. The level of personal intimacy, the unmistakable wisps of loving caress in his voice gave it all away.

"There goes an insider," Albus muttered to Ron who nodded. "Also, Inferi are creepy as hell. I sure hope I never see one. I heard that they're stopped by fire though, I-"

"Mr. Potter, seeing as you are so engrossed in your private little conversation with Mr. Weasley and so arrogantly believe yourself to be above the rest of the class, why don't you answer the question. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?" Snape sneered, barely concealing his contempt.

"Well, your opponent doesn't know what spell you're casting so it gives you an element of are exceptions to this, of course, if-"

"That's enough Mr. Potter," Snape said dismissively, probably deeming him a show-off. "You are correct, though some lack the mind power and concentration to do so." His gaze lingered maliciously on Albus, who returned it with a wide smile.

The class was then divided into pairs, with one being asked to cast a spell without muttering any incantations and the other being asked to counter it in silence. Most groaned at the task, including Albus, whose only real experience with nonverbal spells had been James clandestinely casting a Jelly-jinx curse earlier in the summer and him being utterly unable to repel it. Nonverbal spells were something Hogwarts students learnt in Sixth-Year. Consequently, as a gaze around the room confirmed, everyone seemed just as frustrated as everyone. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued, with people muttering spells under low breaths. Ten minutes into lesson, (aunt) Hermione, managed to repel (uncle) Nevile's muttered Jelly-legs Jinx without saying a single word, which was impressive. "She's done it!" Albus gasped loudly, pointing at Hermione.

Snape simply swept past them dismissively and lingered on Albus and Ron, which the former found bizarrely unfair - but mostly bizarre. Albus had never been a fan of that trashy muggle movie his sister loved called Mean Girls, yet he was fighting off the desire to quote "Why are you so obsessed with me?" to Snape. They weren't doing too badly, at least not much worse than everybody else, who were also struggling with nonverbal spells.

 _Expelliarmus. Expelliarmus. Expelliarmus._

No matter how hard his mind directed its focus towards the spell, no matter how hard he tried to muster ever scrap of his mental energy, nothing manifested. He had to be doing something wrong. Snape gazing over his shoulder most definitely didn't help either.

 _Expelliarmus._

Ron's wand was raised to, attempting to anticipate his attack, which Albus was sure would never come anyway.

 _Expelliarmus, expelliarmus, expelliarmus._

Any moment, Snape would no doubt come interrupt them and then proceed to make snide comments about their spell casting abilities.

 _Expelliarmus._

Without warning, red sparks finally flew out of his wand, but nothing else happened. Ron's wand was still in Ron's hand.

"Pathetic," Snape said.

Suppressing any visible signs of irritation, Albus managed to muster a smile. He kept reminding himself that Snape was one of the good guys and that he really should avoid dramatic outbursts. "I try my best, Sir. You gotta start somewhere..."

"Enough, Potter-"

"Sorry, Sir." Albus tried to sound deferential.

"Well Potter, seeing as your so confident about your own spellcasting prowess, why don't you demonstrate for the rest of the class?" Snape said.

"Sure." Albus resisted the urge to gulp. He was truely, royally fucked in the ass this time. What on earth did Severus Snape have against his father?

Snape turned around to face him and waved his wand so fast that Albus barely had any time to react, being scarcely able to conjure a feeble shield charm, the words _protego_ barely making an effect in his mind. Predictably, he was humiliatingly knocked off his feat and fell to the ground with a thud, though he wasn't hit with any spell.

"Absolutely pathetic," sneered Severus Snape.

"Fucking git," Albus murmured maybe just a little too loudly. The whole class chuckled. Well that was mildly humiliating.

"Five points from Gryffindor for you foul language!"

Suppressing the urge to utter a comeback, Albus sighed and resigned himself to fate. At least there was no detention issued, which would have been an inconvenience.

* * *

"Rule number two, your father sucked at potions." Ron whispered in his ear as he just finished answering Slughorn's question, beating Hermione Granger to it, much to the girl's mild irritation. "So… be a little less conspicuous."

"But everyone knows what Versiraterum is!" Albus exclaimed under his breath. Okay maybe he was a little biased, the image of the small bottle of Versiraterum - clear and colorless - was forever etched into his mind after the disastrous train journey. "Also, Katie Bell has been asking me about Quidditch. I should let her on the team, right? She has been on the team in the past few years?" Albus diverted the topic of conversation. Really, it was strange that amidst all the trouble of being stuck in the past and trying to figure out how to get back to the present - which involved sneaking into the Forbidden Section at midnight - that the main thing plaguing his mind right now was just how to not screw up being Quidditch captain for Gryffindor. "No, really, I need your help to not blow my cover... Trials. The trials are coming up soon. Oh sweet Merlin's saggy tits, I'm toast."

"And you complain about my foul language," Ron remarked as Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I got my foul language from you," Albus quipped. "Okay this sounds weird but it's true - Sir, it's the Polyjuice Potion." His hand shot up again as he gave another response. The slow-bubbling, mud-like substance looked absolutely disgusting and he was infinitely thankful that never in his life was he forced to take it.

"Excellent, excellent! Now this one here is …?" Slughorn looked bemused as Albus and Hermione's hands shot up concurrently. Ron elbowed Albus viciously in an attempt to send him a message about being inconspicuous.

"She can answer it," Albus said as he put down his hand and pointed to aunt Hermione.

"It's Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world," Hermione explained to Slughorn's delight.

"I'm a slow learner," Albus whispered to Ron.

"I can tell."

As Slughorn heaped praise on the two of them, Albus suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and collapse internally onto himself. It was true that Horace Slughorn had been his potions teacher for the past five years, yet the man's pompous conduct and slavish adherence to elitist impulses never ceased to faze him.

Perhaps times have changed too much since his parents were children, but all this obsession with blood-status, not just the obvious instances of bigotry but the constant use the labels half-blood, pureblood and muggleborn was certainly annoying. (Sometime after the War, Slughorn probably caught on the fact that asking about one's blood status was considered a social faux pas and, being Horace Slughorn, he would have paid slavish attention to details such as this.) Even if Albus was sure that Slughorn was no pureblood supremacist, it was still dreary to hear the man attempting to ask Hermione of her associations with established witches and wizards in the magical community after their extensive conversation on Amortentia. In the corner of the room, Albus could hear faint voices of disdain emanating from Theodore Nott's head, sneering comments about aunt Hermione's blood-status, which made his stomach churn with unease. Really, there were so many other meaningful qualities one can judge a witch or wizard by and people had to pick something as abstract, delusional and inane as blood. It was also strange because Jonathan Nott, Theodore Nott's eldest son, was a pretty good friend of his and the guy was very close to dating Jennifer Brown, a muggleborn witch.

Something else that occurred to him was that much as Nott's thoughts rang outwards, he could hear nothing inside Draco Malfoy's mind. It was as if an invisible barrier had been erected.

"Draco Malfoy is an Occlumens," Albus noted out of the blue, causing Ron to sigh.

"Do you just go around snooping other people's minds?"

"Not really."

"So that's a yes?"

"Only when their thoughts are practically streaming out, which applies to Theodore Nott at the back, who is currently harboring some rather prejudiced opinions about your gir- I mean Hermione."

"What - so that's definitely a yes," Ron scowled.

"Felix Felicis!" Albus gasped.

"Very good, Mr. Potter, though I do not recall asking a question," Slughorn chuckled.

'Sorry, Sir, I was just a little surprised to see it here; it's pretty hard to procure, I hear," Albus replied, desperately trying to blend in normally.

"It is indeed!" Slughorn chortled happily. "And can you tell me what it does?"

"It makes you lucky," Albus answered, "Though taking it in excessive amounts can cause problems. They're banned from a lot of Quidditch matches."

"They are!" Slughorn was pretty much leaping with joy at the moment, all while Ron's dug his face into his palms in annoyance. Way to go. "That will be another 10 points for Gryffindor!"

"Sorry," Albus mumbled in Ron's ear, "For, you know, not staying in character - and also for that raggy old book you got. You're the best."

Ron was doing meticulous breathing exercises, Albus could tell, which made him want to chuckle with amusement, even though he really shouldn't. His uncle was never exemplary at concealing frustration.

At the end of the class, Ron Weasley miraculously earned himself a bottle of Felix Felicis. It was a close call between him and Ron, whose new raggy old book contained surprisingly informative instructions on potions - and some strange spells apparently. It belonged to someone by the name of the Half-Blood Prince. Ron was no longer pissed at him for taking the neater book, which was good being Ron had been evidently concealing his frustration at Albus all day. Hermione was evidently a little peeved at how the situation turned out, unused to being beaten by Ron in any form academically whatsoever.

* * *

"Rule number three, stop reading people's goddamn minds!" Ron threw his hands up in the air as Albus collected a bag of dungbombs from a disappointed second-year.

"I'm helping you do your job," Albus quipped with a satisfied grin. "That kid would have gotten away."

"Fine, fine," Ron groaned.

"By the way, do you ever frequent the Prefect bathrooms? They're great."

And they were. It was one of his favourite perks of being Prefect; it made all the hours of patrolling worth it. Plus, it could theoretically fit in multiple people for a small-sized party. Lawrence had suggested it earlier last year, though they never got around to doing it. Albus, after hours and hours of convincing Scorpius, finally got the guy to take a bubble bath with him - in adjacent tubs, of course. It wasn't as if they were intimate in non-platonic ways, in spite of incessant teasing from James, who was an uninformed git.

"I've realized that you do like to divert topics. It's more obvious than you think it is. You know what, just go ahead and do your job. Privacy is dead," Ron bemoaned.

"You wound me," said Albus with a sigh, to which Ron responded with another sigh. "You know, at first, I hated being Legilimens," Albus finally stated after moments of silence, "You hear a lot of things you can't hear. And when you're my father's son, that sort of stuff tends to come up a lot. People say one thing and then they mean another. But it does come with perks and I figured I might as well use them. "

"Without regard for privacy," Ron added.

"I don't just go around poking into people's minds. For the record, I would never do it to you or Hermione or any of my friends or siblings. You have my word."

* * *

"Rule number four, Draco Malfoy is an ass."

"That much I agree." Albus nodded at Ron As the pointed at Draco Malfoy moping around the corridors, doing something secretive. "I think he's also up to something." Then he added, "There's a 90% chance he's a Death Eater now."

"What?!" Ron was loud when he shouts. (Lesson learned.) "And how would you know that?"

"Well, by virtue of speculation," Albus explained, doing his best to appear nonchalant.

"And, can you explain that?" Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Well, I'm sort of friends with his son in the future," Albus said to the wary gaze of Ron, "And now I know what you're thinking, but Scorpius is possibly the nicest person ever - no don't look at me like that!" He held his hands up high. "Anyways, Scorpius told me that his dad took the Dark Mark and technically became a Death Eater. Okay, look, people change, families change and, after the War-"

"There was a war?"

"Aren't we in the middle of one, Ron?"

"Well, it's - I suppose so-"

"Point is, at some point in his life, before the end of his Seventh Year - that is, also, dad's Seventh Year, when he defeated Voldemort - Draco Malfoy took the Dark Mark because, apparently, he wanted to save his parents. That's all I know." Albus finished. Dread suddenly filled him: was he even supposed to tell them all this? What if this ended up altering history?

"Let's rewind this - you were friends with that _git's_ son? That bigoted blond ass?" Ron growled.

"Yeah, best friends actually," Albus uttered briefly, before realising that it was probably for the best if he had explained things in more detail. For some reason, he had this nagging notion that trust levels between him and Ron and Hermione were at an all-time low since the day. He saw that the two were exchanging surreptitious glances, but having promised that he would not peer into any of their minds, he was left to speculate. (Furthermore, he was sure that at least Hermione would have immediately detected him.) "He's actually nothing like his dad, you know. But you won't understand it and I get it. Times have changed. This place is just so, so different from twenty-six years later. The world is so, so different and you'll see what I mean when you get there. I mean, it's really strange because a lot of the problems you guys think are problems are - well, not perfect - but significantly better."

He took a pause. Neither of them looked particularly reassured, which was fair given that anyone so easily convinced was probably an idiot. Still, it was a little wounding. Then he continued: "It's considered weird to ask for people's blood statuses, for example. And Scorpius, believe it or not, helped me so many times when I was feeling down and he was just always there for me. More than that, he is the loveliest, geekiest, most harmless person you would ever meet. Yeah, that's all I have to say. He's nothing like his father. " Albus wasn't normally easy to rile up, yet right now, he was indeed feeling a little peeved, as he always felt when his cousins questioned the character of his best friend. Damn it, he was a decent judge of character. Why couldn't they just believe him?

But he knew he was being ridiculous at the moment. Hermione and Ron would have no way of knowing. It didn't matter, it shouldn't matter. It was he, Albus Severus Potter, that did not belong in this era. "So as I was saying," he resumed after taking a deep breath, "Draco Malfoy is probably a Death Eater and he was probably up to something. He looked rather shifty during the Opening Feast."

"How sure are you of this?" Hermione asked; Albus hoped that she was at least giving him the benefit of the doubt.

"Somewhat."

* * *

"Rule number five, in Gryffindor, we don't give people boils on their face for no reason!" Hermione chided Albus after he cast the Furnunculus curse on Pansy Parkinson on their way to Herbology.

"She had it coming," Albus said, shrugging. "She was being absolutely insufferable in Charms, which you have to agree. She made fun of you and your looks, which I personally can't tolerate. She ended up giving birth to Susan Goyle, who I personally can't stand and who almost broke my knees by sitting on my lap once - long story. And plus there's not much of a difference, given the profusion of acne on her face, no offense."

"Albus!"

* * *

"Rule number six, firewhiskey is forbidden in the Gryffindor dormitories-"

"Too late." Albus cut Hermione off, swishing his bottle while handing another one out to Seamus and Dean. He was simultaneously trying to goad a bunch of Fifth-Years into trying them out. Cormac MacLaggen was downing a bunch all by himself. Even some Second, Third and Fourth Years were trying it out. Ron looked like he was on cloud nine. Neville Longbottom, however, was adamantly refusing Albus' attempts, sadly. ("No thanks Harry, Grandma would never let me" would be responded by "Well she's not here, isn't she?" and the cycle would go on and on.)

He knew, from his days at Hogwarts, that Slughorn kept a whole stash of firewhiskey near his office in the dungeons. They were unguarded and fairly easy to access. Add a bunch of willing co-conspirators and then suddenly alcohol was in your hands.

"Albus Potter!" Hermione muttered viciously into his ear. "This is really, really inappropriate. You shouldn't give First Years Alcohol!"

"Not First Years, Second Years," Albus corrected her sheepishly. "I wouldn't dare do this to our innocent youngsters."

"Oh that makes all the difference," Hermione said sarcastically as Ron bumped into her and then into Lavender Brown, who giggled flirtily.

"Hey, it's Gryffindor, the Land of the Brave, where it's never too early to try anything."

Hermione shot him a dirty look before scowling as Lavender appeared to make another move on Ron.

"Jealous?" Albus whispered.

"Ugh! Just shut up!"

"I'm thinking of sneaking into the Forbidden Section to do some research on time," Albus said, changing the topic. "Gotta start somewhere."

"I'll come with you," Hermione said. "And Ron would, too."

* * *

 _"You were named after a constellation," Albus teased. "A fucking constellation."_

 _"Swear jar," Scorpius reminded his friend and Albus complained, handing over a few coins. Swearing was a habit he had - much to his mother's and father's disapproval and James's delight - picked up over the summer. Watching vulgarities in muggle television had its side-effects. Not that Al minded: swearing, he decided, was cool. He was at the age when a profuse application of expletives raised your social status in front of your peers._

 _"But still," Albus continued. "A constellation. Merlin, that's amazing!"_

 _"Weren't you just teasing me about it a second ago?"_

 _"Mhmmm..." Albus hummed as he drummed his fingers on his lap._

 _It was the time of the year when the temperature was starting to cool exponentially, but when the surroundings were not yet freezing. The two had decided to sneak out at night under the Invisibility Cloak Albus stole from his brother. (Because it really wasn't that difficult, getting into Gryffindor tower, especially when the vast majority of your family belonged there.) Albus rather liked the cool wind blowing in his face and his hair had always been messy and untamable anyway, so it didn't matter if the wind churned it even further._

 _"You should brush your hair more often, you know?" Scorpius joked._

 _"Not worth it." Albus's grin widened. "It's genetic."_

 _"That's nonsense," Scorpius scoffed._

 _Before Scorpius realised anything, Albus jumped onto him and began mercilessly tickling him. "Hey, Albus! Stop!" Scorpius protested under fits of laughter. "They're going to hear us! Okay - I love you but seriously -"_

 _"Fine." Albus slouched, pouting again._

 _Silence broke between them as they absorbed the breathtaking night skies. Albus felt himself peculiarly overwhelmed by calm. Whatever woes that plagued Albus Severus Potter, son of the Wizarding World's Savior, brother of Hogwarts's most notorious pranksters, failure at Quidditch, champion at all things involving gambling, burgeoning Second-Year Slytherin, they didn't matter now._

 _Squinting a little, Albus thought he could see an array of constellations unfolding before his eyes. Then something familiar, perhaps the one thing he managed to memorize from his Astronomy charts. (What can he say? It was a dull class.)_

 _"Look," he whispered towards Scorpius with a low voice as he pointed towards something. "It's your constellation."_

 _"My- oh. Yeah, it is the Scorpius constellation," Scorpius gasped, piping up with excitement. "That's so cool Al! Thanks for coming with me and for that Invisibility Cloak."_

 _"No problem. I'm fucking amazing and you know it!"_

 _"Swear jar," Scorpius reiterated, grinning a little as his resigned friend gave him a few more coins. By this rate, the jar beside Al's bed, a testament to the boy's increasing inability to control his use of profanities, would be full before Christmas. "But thanks, I really appreciate it."_

 _And then they heard voices voices, voices coming from downstairs._

 _"Shit, let's get under the Invisibility Cloak now," Albus whispered surreptitiously._

 _"Swear jar."_

 _"Later."_

 _All in hushed voices._

 _The two quickly scrambled under. It was a false alarm though, for the figures that emerged were merely two sixth-year Ravenclaws, boy and girl, looking for some privacy. They proceed to snog furiously. Then the guy started unbuttoning his shirt; the girl tore off her tie and sweater._

 _"Let's go...?" Scorpius found himself whispering awkwardly._

 _"Yeah," Al agreed._

 _As they quietly descended the stairs and made their way towards the dungeons, Scorpius swore he could hear Professor Flitwick scolding the two other students. Something about being out past curfew and something else about decorum and desecrating the Astronomy Tower._

 _They, however, arrived at their dorms in safety._

* * *

"Rule number seven, when sneaking into the Forbidden Section at night, you will not look at inappropriate contents," Hermione lectured exasperatedly as Albus was once again enticed by some tome pertaining to spells and rituals of an erotic nature. He couldn't help it, there was a huge section of the shelf dedicated to it and it wasn't like it was something evil so his curiosity was, in his humble opinion, completely benign. He was a teenage boy after all - with his raging hormones and all - at the cusp of discovery.

For some reason, he was reminded of Anya Graywater for the first time since he landed in this godforsaken period. It was true that, as of now, he hated her guts for giving him a shitty reason in dumping him - studying for OWLs has got to be the lamest excuse ever - but, nevertheless, they had a year's worth of memories that were made. He had lost count of the number of times he sneaked into the Ravenclaw dormitories, or the occasions during which he feigned attention as she insisted on re-teaching him the contents of Professor Bing's positively sleep-inducing lectures, on the grounds that everyone needed to learn it, or the times when they danced together at a party, lips locked and holding each other up close. Maybe their personalities were simply that incompatible and maybe they could not even be friends anymore, yet it was still good while it lasted. She was his first after all.

"Inanna's Innuendos!" Albus took out the book excitedly. "My first girlfriend showed this to me. It was hilarious, it had a bunch of recommendations on how to communicate sexually and how to have-"

"Albus," Hermione forcefully interjected, her vexed demeanor apparent, "I am doing this to help you. Ron here is also doing this to help you. Be serious."

"Sorry," Albus said, feeling rather guilty, "It's just… never mind." He didn't think that they'd react to well to him talking about his ex-girlfriend. In fact, he'd wager that their opinions of him have been plummeting consistently as the day went by.

So far their searches have been completely and utterly fruitless, hence why Albus began scrolling through pornographic tomes the first place. Not a single book, not a single page on extended time traveling or alternative dimensions.

"Here's something on time-turners," Hermione urged him over as she flicked through a large, worn book.

"But nothing on, well, being randomly beamed back in time." Albus sighed.

"I'm beginning to think we're doing this all wrong." Ron frowned.

"The Department of Mysteries?" Albus suggested. "We can go there and see the Time section and see if anyone has done any meaningful research on time travel. Or we can sneak in there if we're not permitted."

Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous, wary gazes and replied: "Yeah, we're not doing that."

"But surely, I mean - "

"Albus, we broke into the Department of Mysteries last summer and ... things didn't end well, to put it mildly."

"Oh, I see... someone died, right?" He wanted to punch himself in the face for forgetting this. His mother had told him the story alongside his father when cautioning him against being reckless, an exaggerated example but one that stuck. Sirius Black had perished when he fell through the veil. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to bring back any memories."

"It's okay," Hermione said, "You probably had no idea."

"I did, actually. My parents told me stuff," Albus replied. "It wasn't easy for my dad, losing Sirius." He bit his lip, waiting for a response.

"I'm tired," Ron said, yawning for the tenth time, "Any progress being made?"

"Nope," Albus and Hermione said at the same time.

"Well, do you guys foresee us making any significant progress tonight?"

"Nope," Albus said.

"Some breakthroughs are done when all seems lost," Hermione suggested, contradicting Albus mildly.

"It's late guys," Albus muttered, sighing, "We'll continue this later. There's no point in tiring ourselves. But thanks for the help, I really appreciate it. I'm leaving. This place," Albus added as he gestured towards the entirety of the Forbidden Section, "Is usually packed at night with... lustful teenagers. I know, I've been there. Okay maybe not packed at night, but Anya and I certainly weren't alone when we sneaked in her in my Invisibility Cloak. I... I don't know. I kind of miss home. Everything's just been so strange. There are all kinds of things I needed adjusting to. I- I'm just hoping I don't screw up."

Albus normally considered himself an emotionally controlled person, barring moments of inebriation. Not in the sense that he repressed his feelings or despised crying itself, but he could usually hide what he was thinking pretty well, make everyone think everything is alright, put on a decent facade. Not now. Not here. The dam had already been breached and Ron and Hermione could discern the small wells of tears in his eyes. They weren't flowing down - they probably never will. But they were lodged up there for people to see.

"Look, I just don't know what to do anymore. I don't know anyone here, not really. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm scared that I'll be forced to - you know - do things my dad were supposed to do, I'm scared of facing the Death Eaters, I'm scared I'll make mistakes that'll end up compromising the future. More than that, I - I've been a shitty person and I can't be like my father. I could never match up to him. I'm a big fat coward, a big fat petulant coward who parties too much."

Silence. Albus was panting.

"Sorry for the outburst, guys. It's late, I don't want to inconvenience you guys even further. Sleep is important. Don't pull all-nighters until absolutely necessary." He tried to smile it all off and pat them in the back, but they looked unconvinced and very concerned.

"Albus... Are you okay?" Hermione inquired sympathetically.

"I will be. Tomorrow's another day." He gave her a good-natured smile. Smiling was one of the first things he learned as a kid when he fell off a tree and his agitated parents rushed to the hospital to see if he was okay. Smiles dispelled a lot of troubles. Smiles made people feel better and feel that everything would be okay. "So, Quidditch trials..."

* * *

 _Fourth year. Winter._

 _On Christmas Day, Albus received a present from his father. It was light, judging from its packaged state and as Al tore down layers of wrapping, his suspicions grew, burgeoning into excitement –_

 _"- The Invisibility Cloak!" He gasped, turning around to his dad in amazement. "It's … it's mine now?"_

 _His father nodded and said the words "use it well."_

 _He grinned sheepishly. "James will be jealous. He wanted to steal your cloak, you know?"_

 _"Be nice to your brother," his dad then chided, as per usual._

 _Al pouted again. He knew that soon enough, he would be too old to pout and indulge in other forms of childish antics. His expressions faded and,_ alone _with his father in the room, he felt the need to ask the man something that had been nagging at the back of his mind._

 _"Dad… am I a disappointment?" The words came flooding out before he had the chance to erect the dam. "I'm nothing like_ you _dad," Al couldn't stop speaking. "I can't ride a broom properly, I'm not smart like Rose - I mean, I'm not top of the year when it comes to grades, I'm not popular like you were, I was sorted into Slytherin… I can't – I just want you to be proud of me."_

 _I've also cheated on a couple of tests and played a little too much Wizard Poker with my mates and recently started foraying clubs went unsaid. Flickers of adolescent rebellion, perhaps. Sometimes, Albus couldn't help but feel that he would never measure up to his father and that, as a result, he was not a worthy son. Maybe it was an irrational thought and he certainly was prone to occasional outbursts of irrational thoughts, as Scorpius so astutely pointed out after he spent an hour engaged in a screaming match with the Fat Lady when she forbade him from entering the Gryffindor Common room to visit Lily, during which he called the portrait a fat-sow-who-was-so-fat-she-got-stuck-in-a-painting. (It had been, in retrospect, a highly amusing experience. Ridiculous too. And none of his housemates ever let him forget it - neither did James and Lily for the matter.) But still, for a moment, Albus experience a spasm of deep-set insecurity._

 _"Albus," his father held him up close. Green eyes met green eyes. "I will always be proud of you – no matter what happens."_

 _Al wanted to snort, to make some snide, snarky comment like he usually would, but words deserted him. All he could muster was, "Really?"_

 _Harry's smile – at least for this brief, fleeting moment within time and space and notwithstanding the emerging tumults of the future– was Al needed. An embrace passed between father and son._

* * *

"Rule number eight, during Quidditch trials, one must not give away one's inexperience with the game," Albus muttered to himself.

He wasn't completely inept at strategising per se, given that he did watch a lot of Quidditch matches, both professional, Hogwarts-based and between his family. Still, on a personal level, he had ever minimal experience with playing. (Which basically meant he was fucked.) However, he had a few inklings, mainly from his aunts and uncles stories, on who were the decent Quidditch players and who weren't. Katie Bell was definitely in: she had been on the team for six years. Ginny Weasley, also known as young mum, also someone Albus tried avoiding because he was really not sure about mum and dad's relationship status at this point and did not want to make things weird, would also be in. Ron was a decent Keeper, so another likely addition. Two Chasers and one Keeper - and technically one Seeker, albeit Albus was seriously thinking about finding a reserve Seeker and then bailing out on the day of the match. That leaves two Beaters, one more Chaser and one (reserve) Seeker. And plenty of options to choose from.

In fact, Albus Potter would even wager that the entirety of Gryffindor House showed up. A gigantic crowd amassed on the field, way too many for him to process in a day.

"Are tryouts usually this popular?" Albus asked Hermione, frowning.

"It's you that's popular - well, Harry," Hermione explained, completely overlooking Ron's presence. They were in a bit of a silly fight. They were obviously into each other and Albus couldn't resist rolling his eyes at them both. Hermione was into Ron, Ron was sort of into Hermione but also flirting with Lavender, Hermione was jealous and Hermione was being passive-aggressive to Ron, who returned the sentiments. "You - him - have never been more fanciable."

"Does this have anything to do with him being the Chosen One? Or the Ministry of Magic treating him like shit? Or is he popular with the ladies in general, being good-looking and all that? I mean, I'd consider myself-"

"Yes, yes and, partly, yes. Does that answer your question?" Ron said.

"Yes," Albus said. "Now, let's do this. Also, good luck Ron! I know you'll make it!" He patted the guy on the back.

He cleared his throat. Right before he was about to speak, someone by the name of Cormac MacLaggen stepped out of the crowd and shook his hand. "We met in the train, in old Sluggy's compartment."

"Did we?! Well, that's good to know," Albus said as he gave MacLaggen a feigned smile of amicability.

He purposefully walked towards Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan in an attempt to shake MacLaggen off, ignoring Ginny Weasley, who was happily chatting with her friends. They exchanged greetings before Albus announced to a pitch of excited people that tryouts had officially begun.

He had divided people into groups of ten and asked them to fly around the pitch, testing their basic skills. This had to be a reasonable step.

The first group made Albus feel good about his flying abilities, which is to say that only one of them managed to hover in the air for more than 10 seconds.

The second group was filled with ridiculous giggling girls who were giving him flirtatious glances. They had scant knowledge of flying kept laughing and clutching each other tightly. Albus promptly sent them off, which they did not seem to mind at all.

The third group forgot their broomsticks much to Albus' chagrin.

"Is there anyone else here who didn't bring a broomstick?"

A dozen hands shot up.

"Okay please leave - or find a way to get one from Madame Hooch before your turn is called, thank you very much!" Albus bellowed the instructions.

Goodness, gracious.

The fourth group were Hufflepuffs.

"Is there anyone else here who isn't from Gryffindor?!" Albus yelled, barely concealing his annoyance and incredulity. "Leave immediately!"

There was a pause before a bunch of grinning Ravenclaw girls ran off the pitch, roaring with laughter.

This was going to be a long day - and by the looks of it, his would never need to demonstrate his aptitude in Quidditch - yet - given the sheer incompetence and unseriousness of everyone around here. Now all he'll need to do is keep note of a few reserve players that could be made to substitute for him once he finds a convenient excuse to not play Seeker.

Crisis averted, temporarily.

Good lord.

* * *

"Rule number nine, we don't randomly confund people. I saw what you did with MacLaggen," Albus whispered in Hermione's ear before winking at her. "Though, to be honest, things probably turned out for the better and since I'm lax on rules, I'll applaud your marvellous act. Oh and also, rule number ten, if you like someone, go for him."

After Ron had been successfully chosen as Keeper, Hermione could barely suppress her excitement and ran towards them from the stands, congratulating Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes in his direction and promptly decided to ignore him. Ron looked extremely pleased with himself and even taller as usual as he grinned at the new team and Hermione.

They weren't together yet but Albus could definitely sense a budding romance growing. Or alternatively, it may simply have been the benefit of the hindsight. Either way, he was not object to playing matchmaker when destiny calls.

* * *

He was jostled awake by a group of boys, who had been consistently shaking him for the past few minutes, much to his confusion.

His head hurt, his nose was still bleeding, he wanted to punch Draco Malfoy in the face and curse-

"Get off me, Malfoy!"

Harry James Potter shoved Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy away from him as he hastily stood up.

The Hogwarts Express was still rolling - which was something good - and he was surrounded by a bunch of Slytherin boys who were about his age, which was most definitely cause of concern. Though he didn't really recognise the majority of them, there was no mistaking Draco Malfoy's grey eyes and odiously blond hair and pale skin.

"Has he lost it?" Someone - with dark thick hair, light brown skin and whose name he did not know - asked tentatively.

"I know he drank a lot but I wouldn't imagine that he's drunk _that_ much," came another whisper.

"As much as we appreciate you introducing us to aspects of muggle culture, it is a bit weird to see you 'cosplaying' your dad-"

"Guys, that's enough, let him have some slack," Draco said again. And was he looking at Harry with a gaze of understanding and concern? No, that was impossible.

"Oh please, he'll be fine in no time. This isn't the first time he's been like this. Albus, remember that one time when we all crashed over at Scorpius' house and threw a massive party and-"

"What on earth is going on?!" Harry said, louder than he - and everyone else - expected.

"Albus-"

"Who the hell is Albus?" Harry interrupted Scorpius's question.

"He's lost it." A whiff of sadness from someone Harry still had no idea about. "2007-2023. Here lies Albus Severus Potter's sanity.

"Here, I got your robes from your trunk. There's still time to change into them before your meeting with the other prefects," Scorpius said as he handed over a set of dark robes.

Frowning, Harry took them and then almost balked at the appearance of the green and silver Slytherin crest. "These are not my robes..." He muttered to himself.

He took another look around the room. The guys around him were surprisingly good at feigning concern, as all of them looked rather worried about his current state of being. Especially Draco, who did not exhibit the slightest sign of snark or nastiness - or remorse at stunning him the first place.

"Albus," Draco said again, "Let's go for a glass of water before anything. You'll need to hydrate yourself that way because Cornelius, being the smart and considerate person he is, used up the final bits of our Hangover Potion."

"I'm sorry - I didn't know-"

"That's fine, what matters is that Albus ends up sober enough for the start of the year," Draco waved off a guy's defenses. He put his arm around Harry before Harry jumped back in alarm.

"Draco Malfoy, just what the hell are you playing at?" His tone was accusatory, but also incredulous.

"Draco? That's my dad's name! I'm Scorpius Malfoy!" Now maybe-not-Draco really looked alarmed, perhaps even plunging into a state of panic.

Harry felt dizzy.

Just where was he? Just who are these people? Just who is Albus? And just what the blood Merlin is going on?

He collapsed onto the ground.

* * *

 **A/N: ...And Harry Potter has arrived!**

 **Next chapter will probably be a good mixture between Albus and Harry's timelines. And there'll probably be a proper meeting between Albus Dumbledore and Albus Potter, as well as a good talk between Scorpius Malfoy and Harry Potter. The plot will really start to kick-off them and I've already got a faint idea as to where I want this story to go.**

 **Please leave any comments in the reviews! They motivate me to write faster!**


	3. Chapter 3

Albus Severus Potter was pacing to and fro outside of Albus Dumbledore's office. He had been summoned there in person for reasons which he did not know. Hermione had suggested- in the light of their previously unsuccessful research endeavors - that he reveal his identity to Dumbledore and seek help from there on, which was eminently sensible.

Still, the prospect of meeting his namesake and quite possibly the most powerful wizard of all time, a title contested only by the great Merlin himself, and of stitching together a coherent explanation for his current state made Albus nervous. He rehearsed his words over and over in his head - until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Acid pops," said Albus abruptly and the gargoyle outside the office leaped aside. He knocked on the door.

"Come in," Dumbledore's voice sounded from the inside.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore," Albus said as he walked inside.

"Ah, good evening. Please sit down," Dumbledore said as he offered a seat amicably, smiling. It may be paranoia but Albus was pretty sure that there was a hint of surprise and suspicion within the man's voice.

So it was to be done.

"Pleased to meet you, Sir." Albus held his hand out for Dumbledore to shake it; the man's brows lifted in slight surprise. "Excuse me for the formality, but I believe we have never met in person," Albus explained as he took a deep breath. There was no way Dumbledore wouldn't believe him. If there was one person in the past sans his father's best friends who would believe his outlandish scenario, it was Dumbledore. "I'm not Harry Potter. I'm... Albus Potter. I'm from the future."

~X~

"Al! Snakey McSnakeface! Are you okay?!"

"Stop calling him that James! He's unconscious!" A female voice chided. Harry thought he could her a loud smacking sound.

"You've missed Prefect duty - tsch tsch... ten million points of Slytherin!" The other voice responded nervously, managing a small laugh.

"This is no time for jokes you unsophisticated twerp!"

"Cut the acidity Annie..."

"Shhhhhh... you guys are waking him!"

"Always the considerate one, Scorp."

"I sense some true love right there, sorry Anya, but your affections have been eclipsed!"

"As usual, you make the stupidest statements at the most inopportune moments."

"Bugger off!"

"Quiet! Don't wake the patient!"

"I mean, you technically broke it off with my brother-"

"That doesn't mean we can't, you know, talk to each other or be friends with each other."

"Really, this cluster is more than we can accommodate-"

"I don't know man, Albus was really pissed at you for doing it for your OWLS. Your OWLS."

"He's waking up!"

Harry Potter's eyes flung open. He was on a hospital bed, still surrounded by people he didn't know. The warm air around him induced sweat drops that continued to trickle down his cheeks.

"Who-"

"Albus, you're okay!"

Not-Draco again. Platinum blond hair. Confused grey eyes. Concerned expressions manifested through furrowed brows.

He jumped out of bed.

"I'd...like some peace and quiet," Harry finally summoned the energy to speak. "Really, thank you very much. Thank you all. Good bye."

There were mutters as the lot of them filtered out of the room, ushered by a rather vexed Madame Pomfrey. (It was decent to witness at least one familiar face.) The sound of feet pattering away somehow reassured him. Alas some peace and quiet, perhaps?

~X~

Frustratingly, not-Draco seemed intent on remaining behind - even as a guy who professed to be his 'bro' told him to 'hit him up at the Gryffindor common room whenever he's feeling okay' left - and Madam Pomfrey did not object to his presence. Strange indeed. It had been hours and the guy refused to leave.

"Okay, just who are you and what is going on?" Harry finally blurted out. "I know you're not Draco Malfoy... but you look exactly like him!"

"First things first... you're not Albus, I've theorised that. Secondly, I think you might be possessing his body, which is why I brought this book on exorcism," the guy's eyes twinkled as he pulled out a thick tome, probably taken from the forbidden section of the library. "That said, the fact that you kept referring to as Draco Malfoy, the fact that you have that scar on your forehead"- Scorpius gestured towards him -"and the fact that you seemed to have no idea what the fuck is going on has led me to suspect a third possibility. You're Harry Potter. You're from the past! That's wicked!"

Scorpius sounded giddy with excitement as he rushed to hug Harry, who was as befuddled as ever on his current state, not to mention feeling perturbed by the uninvited physical contact.

"Wait, wait, wait - hang on a minute... You're saying I'm in the future?! What- but - I still need to-"

"Don't worry, I've already informed Albus' dad... you actually - current you, Head of the Auror Department and all that - about the current complications. Told him this might be a case of accidental time travel and -"

"Just what is going on-"

"Don't worry, you're-"

"Of course I'm worried!" Harry uttered these words, interrupting Scorpius' stream of consciousness. "I don't know who you are, what in Merlin's pants I'm doing here and whether I can trust you!"

"Have a chocolate frog," Scorpius piped up jovially. He reached into his pockets for the treat.

"What?!"

"My mother always said that sweets can calm one's nerves."

Harry was completely taken aback by the abrupt change in topic, as well as the offer. This Scorpius kid was one weird person.

"Everything will be fine!" Scorpius reassured him and then enveloped Harry in a tight, mildly suffocating embrace. "You hug right? Do we hug? Should we make this a thing now?"

"Um..."

"CAN WE ENTER NOW?" A loud cacophony of voices boomed from outside the infirmary.

"NOT YET!" Scorpius shouted back. "So," he continued speaking, lowering his voice. "Here's the game plan. Current you, the Auror, will be on his way to Hogwarts as soon as possible. Although I myself am perfectly trustworthy, as are most people here, to be safe, you're going to pretend that you're Albus Potter. And this means playing along with people, pretending that you went a little crazy back then and all that, going to his classes, sleeping in his bed and fending off his ex-girlfriends. Oh and try not to disclose your real identity. Got it?"

"Wait, what-"

"Great!"

"BRING THE MAN TO HIS DORM!" Scorpius shouted outwards, which was responded by the entrance of a barrage of loud, abrasive Sixth-Years.

"Wait, what is going on-"

"Just roll with it, Alby!"

His voice was drowned out by the clamour.

~X~

"This is very serious, Mr... Albus Potter. I would not be so inclined to believe it if I had not seen what's inside your head."

Right, Albus Dumbledore is one of the greatest Legilimens to ever live.

"I would not bestow the title 'greatest' on myself, Mr. Potter. But I am, indeed, a Legilimens... as are you. Am I correct?"

Albus Potter nodded tentatively.

Dumbledore smiled, then his brows furrowed. "I would say welcome to the past Mr. Potter, but these are serious times and your presence brings about... certain complications."

"No kidding, Death Eaters, Voldemort, the fact that everyone is going bananas. Not going to lie I'd really like to be back in the present - but that's probably more complicated than it seems, right? I mean, I don't really know the mechanics as how I got here, but I was hoping that you might... I'd... Never mind..." His voice trailed off and he felt like a helpless idiot. So Dumbledore believed him — and now what?

"No, unfortunately, there's no immediate solution for your predicament," Dumbledore mused as he contemplated the situation in front of him. "But perhaps the truth will soon unveil itself. There's very little you can do right now, Albus."

"Okay so I've just been pretending to be Harry Potter at the moment, but do I have to get involved in his 'save-the-world' antics? I mean, it's not like I don't care, per se, I'm just not sure if I'm the best person... I do know that he's supposed to be hunting down Horcruxes this year but I'm not sure which one he's currently on... There's like seven of them, isn't it?"

Dumbledore's expression made him realize that he may have revealed some 'future knowledge' that was not quite congruent with the current matter of things.

"Okay, what part of what I just said was unexpected?"

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit-_

"Should I even be saying anything at this point..." Albus froze, mildly petrified. "I..."

~X~

"Enough with this, I'm going to bed..." Wearily, Harry Potter, murmured as he wrangled himself out of another embrace. Tough job. He was basically enveloped in an inebriated circle of drowsy teenagers, who wanted to throw another party after the first day of school. Several eager first, second and third-years lingered too, eager to impress their housemates.

Luckily, he was a rather nimble individual, owing to his small-ish stature and maneuvering practice in Quidditch and whatnot.

After a string of strenuous goodbyes, as he strove to remember all the names, Harry finally reached a quiet corner where he could have some peace and quiet.

It was a strange day. He had missed the Sorting because he had been hospitalized. Thereafter, he was dragged into a drunken fest of inebriation, a cacophony of loud party music, where he was accosted by someone called Anya who was apparently his ex-girlfriend, who then gratuitously slapped him in front of everyone. Everyone was calling him Albus, which was very strange because apparently his future self had named his second son Albus Severus Potter, after the insufferable greasy git known as Professor Snape. As to the reasoning behind it, Scorpius shrugged and told him to ask his future self when they meet tomorrow. (The whole idea of meeting himself seemed so absurd.) Then apparently he was hauled into the air by a bunch of Slytherin boys, who were 'Albus's' housemates, hollering and calling him "an absolute legend" for successfully evading the Sorting Ceremony. As to why Albus Potter ended up in Slytherin, Harry was in mild befuddlement given — alright the Sorting Hat did at one point say he'd be a good fit in Slytherin but he always suspected it misjudged him anyway. Anyways, these Slytherin boys seemed way too enthusiastic and cheery to be close to comfort — and he was going to have to live with them until everyone figured out what the hell was going on.

"Albus! I mean - Harry!"

There comes Scorpius again. Harry sighed.

"I'm going to bed," he responded.

"Me too, I'm heading back too I mean. I can show you were it is — you know where it is right? Dad said you once sneaked in there."

"Okay this is just getting weird."

"No — I mean, yes, kind of? Isn't it pretty cool that you get to peak into the future? I don't mean — I know you're super unnerved and everything but this — Hey! Wait up! You still need me for the password!"

Getting out of not-Draco/ Scorpius Malfoy's sight does not appear to be a viable option. Harry kept walking. He was sure he remembered the directions to the dungeons.

"Look — I know you're freaked out — I know you don't, well, we're not friends yet, but I was great friends with Albus! And believe me, I want him back too and I want to help you because you're a great person and you're his dad and … just… Okay, so we've established 100% that you are a time traveller and we are getting present-you here tomorrow to help sort it out. In the mean time please— Harry, please— don't do anything stupid. Anyways, let's—"

~X~

"So is there such a thing as the paradox of time traveling — like, I'm not meant to reveal too many details about the future, right?" Albus asked a quizzical Ron at breakfast as Hermione frowned, possibly wondering what else he had gotten himself into. "I mean, I'm thinking… how did I even get here?"

"Yes, that's what we've been trying to figure out, Albus... the past few days," Hermione said with a sigh.

"Okay so basically what happened was I told Dumbledore something I'm not really meant to tell him. It's something kind of important and I think might end up altering the course of history - or maybe not. But what if me being here and you guys seeing me - what if that changes everything?" Albus found himself rambling on and on and on. Ever since his meeting with Dumbledore earlier this week, he had been kind of paranoid about saying anything. Lips zipped tight, he would often add a 'did you guys know this?' or an 'am I even meant to say anything?' to the end of his sentences whenever he began conversing with Ron and Hermione, who no doubt found his antics a bit tiresome.

"Albus, it will be fine... No one is going to care about whether the Holyhead Harpies won the championship four or five times in the next twenty years..." Ron mumbled as he stuffed a sandwich in his mouth.

"Also you guys should totally date," Albus said, "You two look super cute together." He couldn't help it. It wasn't as if Ron and Hermione - sexual tension and all of that - would stop dating just because he said anything or revealed anything. Come on.

Ron spilt his milk. Hermione was coughing up her biscuits.

"Oh I see, a little shy aren't we?" Albus was so amused he began chuckling.

Speaking of romantic relationships, he wondered whether James - back in present day - was ever going to get back together with Annie Bones or whether his ex-girlfriend missed him at all. Then his mind wondered to the topic of his parents. Hadn't Harry and Ginny Potter began dating during Sixth-Year, which meant that if they don't start dating any sooner or if the Harry Potter in the current time doesn't make it back, wouldn't that technically mean he himself wouldn't be conceived at all? His eyes scanned the Gryffindor table and found that Ginny was kissing another dude. That can't be right.

 _Wingardium leviosa,_ Albus whispered, swinging his wand, as the random's guy's plate levitated and slammed into his face.

Hermione elbowed him hard. "What the hell was that for?"

"Okay, guys, isn't - I mean - Ginny Weasley" - it was strange referring to his mother by her maiden name - "is meant to be my mother. She and dad got together his Sixth Year, which means that any romantic affection between her and any other guy technically threatens my existence. I can't allow that!" He declared.

"WHAT?!" Ron spilt even more milk.

"Wait - is this another one of these things that I'm really not supposed to say or - I mean - Merlin's pants weren't they always a bit friendly with each other ever since dad saved her from the Chamber of Secrets -?"

"They what?! Ginny never told me anything?!"

"Of course she didn't-"

"Okay - should we tell her? I think that's the most sensible option, as I really don't want her to get together with that guy -"

"That guy has a name and it is Dean Thomas," Hermione explained. "And I am not sure whether us telling her about your status or the future would really help with anything -"

"Okay but what if they really fall in love and I'm no longer born as a result!" Albus threw his hands up in the air in despair.

"Ginny and Dean Thomas? Pffft - she's too good for him! They won't stay together for long!" Ron blurted out, peeved. "But back to what you said about Harry - are you serious? They really got together?"

"Oh yes. That's how I was made," Albus quipped.

"When did Harry begin-"

"Sixth-year. I think. I _think_." Albus was trying very hard to remember. "Also, I know I'm pretending to be Harry but there's no way I'm going to hit on my future mother. That's just gross-"

Ron spilt milk again.

~X~

"Harry," Harry heard as he stood in front of his future self, who had the same jet black hair (albeit peppered with grey), the same green eyes, the same lightning scar. The man looked worried. "Tell me everything."

"I was on the couch on my way to Hogwarts. I was spying on Draco Malfoy, I got stunned and I woke up here. Then I found out that I'm supposed to pretend to be your son - my future son - until we figure out how to send me back," he explained as succinctly as possible. Also Draco Malfoy's son is somehow not totally evil.

"I see... I remember going through all of that except I awoke in the same time period, missed the sorting ceremony and went to Hogwarts for the rest of the year," Harry remarked. "Did you remember seeing anything strange before falling unconscious? Anything... unnatural?"

"Not to my knowledge, though Draco Malfoy did look like he was up to no good and I think - well, there's no way to verify, but he might have taken the Dark Mark."

"I see." The man did not look particularly shocked.

"So why do you think I'm here?"

It was strange seeing his future self. Privately, Harry wondered how he turned out. The man was clearly an esteemed Auror and a loving family man. But how did he get here? And more importantly, how did he manage to defeat Voldemort in the end? Who had he fallen in love with? What-

"This act of time-travel... It was tampered with - likely from this side, from my time," Harry - present-Harry - explained with a frown. "My team's investigations on the Hogwarts express found the presence of... illicit substances. And no, it's not because Albus and his friends were partying and taking drugs, as teenagers these days often do. There was... time dust, an ingredient used in the making of Time Turners. Or at least preliminary results from the lab provided very strong evidence for the hypothesis that someone in the Hogwarts Express doused my son in it."

"But why? And who would do such a thing - could it be one of his housemates?"

"That is certainly a possibility. I would be opening investigations into each and every one of them. As to your first question... I have a few speculations, none of them too good."

"What should I do in the meantime?"

"Stay safe. Keep an eye out for the people in your dormitory. And keep in touch."

~X~

Katie Bell was attacked in Hogsmeade and, as a consequence, there was a lot of panic and kerfuffle today.

"It's Draco Malfoy," Albus insisted. "He's a Death Eater."

"Albus -"

"i'm 100% sure - and you know what? I'm going to tell Dumbledore -"

"Albus, you can't just -" Hermione was a little wary about this.

"No, I think they should know. Dumbledore because well, he's Dumbledore and the headmaster. A potential Death Eater wondering around Hogwarts is dangerous. And I don't want to risk anything. I'm going now," Albus said as he headed towards Dumbledore's office.

"Albus!" Hermione yelled behind him. She was running frantically, trying to catch up. "Calm down! You don't know whether this is a good thing!"

Ron held her back. He seemed to at least mildly agree with Albus.

"Acid pops," Albus said to the gargoyles again, only to receive no response. It appears that Dumbledore was not in the office today. That's no problem, he thought to himself as he headed away into the dungeons. He'd try his luck with Horace Slughorn and if that doesn't work, he'd move on to Minerva McGonagall, who would be his current Head of House. He was tempted to also try his luck with Severus Snape, knowing that the man was ultimately a good guy (in spite of the fact that he seemed to hate Harry's guts), but there was

"Albus! Where are you going?!"

~X~

"That's a very, very serious allegation Harry," Slughorn responded as Albus tried to explain the potential evidence. Draco's secretiveness, his suspicious locations, his demeanor - he tried to piece together evidence from what he saw and what he remembered from the future.

"I know, Sir, I wouldn't have said anything otherwise," Albus said gravely, "I'm telling you this because... Dumbledore is unavailable today and I... I trust that you have your students best interests at heart. It's just... I have this very strong suspicion and I do not know what to do. You seem like someone that-"

"Well, what a flattering description Harry, my, my..." Slughorn must have been pleased by his words. "But unless I have any concrete evidence, I'm not-"

"Well obviously I'm not asking you to complain to Dumbledore or try to expel him. That's not my intention at all. I just... Sir, um, maybe you could keep an eye on him? I'm a little bit worried that I might be correct - of course, I hope I'm not. But with the Katie Bell situation, the escalating threat outside, I..."

"Of course, Harry. Of course," Slughorn replied. "Your concerns are warranted. And they're safe with me. I'll see what I can do... I'm not Draco's Head of House, that'll be Severus- I'll see if I can tell him-"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Sir - I-"

"Oh don't worry, I won't mention your name."

"He'll know it's me - I - telling Dumbledore is a better idea, perhaps."

"Very well then."

"Thank you, Sir. I'm so sorry for bothering you or - it's just... I'm a bit worried and maybe just a little bit scared about what's going on. Just a little." Albus was careful not to sound too agitated. It didn't seem like Slughorn could do much after all, for the man was the Potion's Master, but not the Slytherin Head of House. Still, it was interesting catching up with the man in the past. Still the same pompous demeanor, but it was tinged with a certain fearfulness and wariness. What was the man afraid of?

"Oh Harry!" Slughorn patted him on his back."Don't you worry. Aren't we all a little bit afraid these days." Of course, the same reason as everyone else. "I've known your mother for all these years - one of the brightest that I've taught! Your father, on the other hand..." There was a chuckle.

"I'm sure he must be quite the troublemaker," Albus said with a grin.

"Now, I hope that you'll be attending the next Slug Club gathering... I have a lot planned..."

"Of course, Sir, looking forward to it," Albus said with a smile.

In truth, Slug Club gatherings vary by quality, as he himself could attest. There were times when he got to meet important people, but most of the time, it simply involved listening to Slughorn drone on and on about his connections, the importance of networking and the students he had mentored. Then there were pretentious idiots who always wanted to know more and kiss people's asses.

~X~

Hermione was absolutely livid when she found out what Albus had done back in the Gryffindor dormitory. "You what?!"

"I told Horace Slughorn about Draco Malfoy potentially being a Death Eater," Albus remarked.

"You can't just run around telling people that!"

"I'm not randomly telling people that Draco's a Death Eater. All I'm doing is raising my concerns to a prominent member of the faculty - although, I must say I didn't-"

"You don't even know if you can trust Slughorn!"

"Of course I can! He might be a bit pompous but he's no Death Eater sympathizer!"

"But how do you know your actions won't have any unintended repercussions!"

"Like what?!"

"We don't know! You were the one who asked about time traveling paradoxes earlier and now you're the one running around, trying to 'make use' of information you obtained by virtue of being from the future and - and you don't know what kind of precedent this sets! You don't know how this is going to change the future! You don't know everything! Just because you have the benefit of the hindsight doesn't mean that you're always going to know what leads to what!"

And the same argument went on and on and on. Until Albus Potter eventually got up and left, with Hermione still yelling behind him.

"Look, Hermione, I'm meeting with the Quidditch team in the Common Room soon given that the next match is within a week - I'm going to to find an excuse not to go... We can talk about this later." He ignored her protests.

Oh, and he'd find a way to reach McGonagall later.

* * *

 **A/N: Albus is being a tattletale :P**

 **I know it took ages for me to pump out a new chapter - and that it was rather short in length, but I promise the next chapter is going to have some important revelations, more stuff with Ginny and some real action. As to whether Albus will do anything about the Horcruxes at all, or what Dumbledore will do, or what Harry will be involved in the future, it's all up in the air! :) Albus is being really petulant and rash now, I know, but can you blame the kid for being paranoid?**

 **Please let me know if you have any thoughts or comments.**


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